


Speared

by Anonymous



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Play, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Id Fic, M/M, Masochism, Object Penetration, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Theseus being Theseus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For a kinkmeme prompt: Zag defeats Theseus and then fucks him with the blunt end of his own spear.
Relationships: Theseus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 135
Collections: Anonymous, Hades Kink Meme





	Speared

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt is [here.](https://hadeskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/741.html?thread=57317#cmt57317)

The daemon’s thrown shield catches Theseus under the chin and knocks him back. Losing his footing, he leans on his spear for purchase, but a sweeping arc of pink light knocks it from his hands. Theseus is sent sprawling on the ground, without his weapon.  
  
He should not have foolishly agreed to this filthy liar’s challenge to fight without his own shield, but they have never met outside the Stadium before. The sheer novelty of it was enticing, and Theseus burned to prove himself in new circumstances.  
  
Now, almost totally exhausted, he watches fiery feet step closer to him, with one landing on the metal shaft of his spear. The daemon has the temerity to tuck his toes under the weapon and kick upwards, so Theseus’s spear spins in the air until caught easily in one hand.  
  
“I win,” says the daemon, and he points the weapon straight at Theseus, who wants to spit.  
  
He tries to get to his feet instead. His arms shake with the effort of propping him up.  
  
“I’ll never concede to the likes of you, you wretched hellspawn!” Theseus says. “I am still the Champion of Elysium!”  
  
The daemon with the mismatched eyes runs a hand through his spiky hair. “I don’t know how, when I keep beating you. And now I’ve won in a fair fight.”  
  
“Bah, fair! You speak of fairness, when you skulk around hiding behind whatever suits you, afraid to face a Champion head on!”  
  
Said spear thrusts closer to Theseus, and he swallows. The blade is almost touching his neck, and that tingles in a way he’d rather his eternal rival didn’t see.  
  
“Asterius concedes when we fight, you know,” the spawn of the Underworld says. “Only when you’re not there. You’re a bad influence on him.”  
  
Theseus jerks his head up, and feels his own spear point dig into the skin of his throat. “How dare you speak against my dear friend, when he isn’t here to defend himself!”  
  
“You’d only talk over him if he was!”  
  
“And you would take advantage of the inexplicable respect he has for you! Our bond may be unbreakable, but Asterius is not. He is far too kind, and I’ll never allow you to seduce him with your poisonous lies!”  
  
“Seduce ... I’m not trying to seduce anyone!”  
  
“Liar! You flatter him with that venomous smirk of yours, and I know from the look in your wicked eyes that you’d not hesitate to draw him to your side! Don’t lie to me again and say you don’t appreciate his unrivalled martial prowess, his muscular form! Why else would you tempt him with the sweet charms of Aphrodite?”  
  
The daemon drops Theseus’s spear. No doubt he’s been stunned by the accuracy of Theseus’ words, and will leave in shame, but if he doesn’t ...  
  
Theseus dives for the weapon. The daemon is upon him before he can grasp it, and the spear is knocked away as they grapple on the ground. Theseus may be already tired, but he’s an accomplished wrestler, and he holds his own in the contest, grabbing at the daemon’s tunic and pulling him down.  
  
The daemon struggles. He has enough strength in his rather wiry form to roll Theseus and lock him in place on his stomach for a moment. Theseus can feel the weight of him there, and there’s the slip of living sweat from rather small, delicate hands on the back of his neck.  
  
“Why won’t you stay down?” the wretch asks. Theseus answers with an elbow jab back into his gut, since the fool has left his arm free, and they’re rolling about again in the dirt.  
  
There’s no technique from this daemon, only wild flailing, and Theseus ought to think even less of him for it. Instead, he keeps feeling the impossible heartbeat, and the hot blood under the skin. Asterius is wrong, this is no true god. Gods don’t flush like mortals with the effort of a tussle.  
  
Nor do they smell of sweat. It’s sour and should be off putting, but when Theseus finds his face against the daemon’s half-bared chest, he has a sick impulse to taste the skin there, where beads of saltwater form.  
  
He doesn’t, but the thought has already gone straight to his rebellious lower regions, enough that when he’s pinned again and straddled by the daemon, he knows his reaction can be felt.  
  
The daemon turns scarlet, but he won’t loosen his grip on Theseus. Almost admirable of him, Theseus thinks vaguely. He may not need to breathe, but he does feel light headed.  
  
“What’s _wrong_ with you?” the daemon moans. He has, Theseus thinks, not so unpleasant a voice. Pity he only says despicable things with it.  
  
“Clearly you don’t wrestle often, to be offended by a natural response! You may be a despicable blackguard, but your form is not unlike a man’s. I enjoy a glorious contest between two bodies, is that so odd?”  
  
“Yes!” says the daemon. Somehow his sheer indignation makes Theseus harder. He hasn’t moved to avoid the growing tent in Theseus’s skirt, either.  
  
“If you’re so terribly offended, you can release me and concede the fight,” Theseus offers, with what he thinks is a magnanimous smile.  
  
The daemon shakes his head. “You’re the one who lost!”  
  
“A matter of opinion!”  
  
“Shut _up_ you shiny windbag! What will it take to shut you up?”  
  
Theseus laughs. “Nothing _you_ can do to me, daemon. Your strange, pallid form might be just enough to rouse me, but you haven’t the stomach to finish the job.”  
  
“Zagreus,” says the daemon.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Zagreus. If we’re doing this, my name is Zagreus. You can’t call me daemon, or filth, or hellspawn. And if I get you off, I win.”  
  
  
So he takes the deal. The daemon— Zagreus is still a fiend from the depths, but Theseus is never one to refuse a challenge.  
  
Therefore, it’s natural to be on all fours in the dirt with his skirt flipped up, revealing a loincloth that Zagreus quickly removes and tosses aside. He takes pride in his body, and is gratified when he hears a hiss of breath behind him.  
  
“Think yourself lucky to have such a view!” Theseus says, and there’s a hand on one cheek, groping and squeezing.  
  
“Do I have to gag you?” asks the rough voice of the daemon. His thumb presses against Theseus’s asshole, pushing too lightly to pass the tight entrance.  
  
Theseus has enough control to clench it against the digit, like he’s trying to pull Zagreus in. Gods, he wants to be thoroughly fucked. He craves it, needs it, especially from someone pulsing with life.  
  
The thumb is gone and he almost complains, but it comes back wet with spit. The tease of a daemon merely smears the stuff around, then adds more until Theseus is squirming and pushing backwards. He wants those fingers inside, though they’re so slim they’re almost nothing.  
  
Zagreus grabs his hip to still him, the fiend. His hands might be delicate, but his grip is tight.  
  
It’s not enough to stop Theseus jerking in shock when he hears Zagreus lift his spear, then the sloppy sound of something being licked and sucked on. There’s a faint clack of crystal against teeth, and an odd sensation thrums through Theseus like a ghostly touch.  
  
He _is_ one of the Blessed of Elysium. Zagreus must know how tightly his weapon is bound to him, that it’s an extension of himself.  
  
The next thing he feels is the tip of something hard against his hole, warmed from the attention of a living mouth, but still not the pulsing heat of a cock like he hoped for.  
  
The point is narrow, and it breaches Theseus easily. Embarrassingly easily, even; it’s not until the crystal end of the spear is nearly halfway into his hole that Zagreus meets some resistance and stops.  
  
“What are you waiting for? You must know I can take this and more!” Theseus says. In truth, he feels the strain of the odd shape. His ass would push it out, if it wasn’t being held there.  
  
He hears another wet suck, and then there are fingers on his stretched rim, coating him with more spit. It helps some; the daemon jerks Theseus’ spear back and forth so it enters him by painfully slow degrees.  
  
At the widest point, Theseus almost gives up. It’s too much, though he’s taken much bigger. There’s no mercy and no give to the crystal end of his spear, so his whole world narrows to the way it relentlessly spreads his hole. He’s split open, and kept that way by the shape of it. He must look like a squirming wreck from the vantage point of the daemon, and he burns with the shame of that.  
  
It doesn’t help when Zagreus reaches down for him, stroking at his cock in time to his too-gentle thrusts with the spear. Theseus twitches in his hand, and tenses enough to push the crystal out a little, which makes Zagreus laugh.  
  
“Should have seen that coming, I guess. Bet you’d be done quick if I jerked you off now,” he says.  
  
“You filthy cheat!” Theseus moans into the dirt. He would be able to cum like this, but what a weak, ruined thing it would be.  
  
Zagreus’ hand comes off his cock, and swats him across the cheek of his ass. It throbs where the crystal stings, and Theseus feels his cock loose a great drip of precum.  
  
“No filth, remember? I can always stop,” Zagreus says. He sounds like he’s playing a game he knows well, but Theseus doesn’t care to find out what creatures like him do for their pleasure.  
  
“And lose?” Theseus goads. “You’d give up now, _daemon_?”  
  
Theseus gets another strike for that, a sharp slap on the other cheek. If he has any sense, Zagreus must know Theseus loves it, from the way his fingers clench in the dirt to the way his cock jumps. In fact, Zagreus lets the slick pre drip onto his hand, and adds it to the spit on Theseus’ rim, and the crystal itself.  
  
“Leaving you like this might be worth losing,” Zagreus says, and Theseus feels panic rise in his chest.  
  
“You mustn’t, you wouldn’t be so cruel!”  
  
“I thought you could take it, Champion.” Oh and that’s downright sarcastic, but Theseus doesn’t care because Zagreus twists the spear just so, and the widest swell finally breaches the flagging ring of his hole.  
  
From there, his greedy ass sucks the rest in right to the decorative gold joint where the counterweight meets the shaft. He can feel the metal, somehow even colder than crystal, and it’s such a relief on his poor stretched entrance.  
  
Inside, he’s full in a way that brings a tear to his eye. Theseus can feel the tip pressing up as far as his body can take it, but it’s entirely eclipsed by the swell of the thing, rubbing everywhere at once. The pressure is glorious, it becomes his whole world, and he closes his eyes to savor it.  
  
Zagreus is saying something, which he barely registers and opts to ignore. He pushes his hips back for a little friction, now he’s adjusted to the size of the thing, and it’s too much for him. The weight and the scrape of it on his poor insides make him sob in pleasure-pain.  
  
“Going to take that as a yes,” Zagreus says. Perhaps he asked if Theseus is all right, but Theseus won’t answer anyway. He won’t be humiliated by gentleness.  
  
Zagreus doesn’t seem to agree, because he barely thrusts the spear. All Theseus needs is more, not this teasing that makes him feel weak.  
  
“Is that— _ngk_ , gods— all you have for me, blackguard?” he asks.  
  
The daemon, damn him, slows down. The weak, jerky movement becomes an agonisingly slow twist, and Zagreus has his other hand on Theseus’ lower back like he might need support. It’s shameful, how good that warm hand feels.  
  
“Zagreus,” he says. “Say it, and let’s see.”  
  
Theseus bites his lip. He wants to say he won’t, but then Zagreus pulls the spear back so the swell of it is pure pressure against the inner spot that turns Theseus’ no-longer-physical body into a hot, animal thing.  
  
“Please, Zagreus!” he cries. He’s given what he wants immediately, with another shove forward of the spear then a delicious pull backwards until it’s pushing against his hole, threatening to pop out.  
  
Theseus’ arms shake, and he loses the strength to hold himself up with them. He’s face-down in the dirt, his ass in the air and his trembling thighs only staying strong because Zagreus has that spare hand on his belly now, knuckles brushing at his needy, dripping cock.  
  
It feels like he’s constantly cumming, or at the moment before. He’s melting into a warm ocean of pleasure, as his whole body becomes centred on the pressure-fullness-friction inside him. Theseus no longer feels like the spear is a separate part of him. It belongs there, keeping him at this eternal height.  
  
It can’t last forever. Zagreus must think he’s ready, and it takes no more than a few jerks of his cock in one of those blood hot hands to make him cum in thin ropes, half diluted with pre. It’s a strange capstone, bringing him back from all encompassing glory to focus on the release from his cock, but the afterglow is warm again.  
  
“Wow,” says Zagreus, and the sound of his voice jerks Theseus out of his bliss. The daemon is still here.  
  
The daemon did that, made him feel all the sick lusts he craves, and he’s still here. The spear is still here too.  
  
Oh, gods, it’s going to have to come out of him. He doesn’t want it to, doesn’t want Zagreus to see him like this at all.  
  
It’s not as though Theseus has never felt icy shame after he cums from whatever degradation strikes his fancy, but it isn’t normally in the company of anyone he expects to have to fight in the Stadium again.  
  
“Daemon, if you tell another living soul about this, I’ll … I’ll …”  
  
He can’t even think of a threat when his body is weak and soft as the mud under him.  
  
“What? No, I wouldn’t— look, Theseus, um. Me too. I like this kind of stuff too. I’m not going to tell anyone.”  
  
Ugh, and now the daemon was patronizing him. “Obviously you like it, you just did it,” Theseus snaps. “Now hurry up and get it out of me, I can’t be seen … I have things to do!”  
  
Like have a long, long bath and never mention any of this to Asterius. Then he’d enjoy another bath.  
  
Zagreus makes a downright infernal noise of frustration. “You’re never going to listen to me, are you? Right. OK. I’m going to take it out now, so brace yourself.” He has his hand on the small of Theseus’ back again, and strokes at the skin there while he pulls at the spear.  
  
It’s still not easy. Theseus’ hole spasms, clenches down in spite of how ruined and aching it feels. Zagreus is infuriatingly patient and gentle, stopping every time Theseus lets out the smallest whimper, so the process feels like it takes longer than being fucked did.  
  
Eventually the widest part breaches him again and the rest all slides out with a disgusting squelch. Theseus must be gaping wide, rubbed raw, but it would be a delicious ache if he didn’t have company staring at his predicament.  
  
He has the energy now to pull down his tunic, and the outer skirt he wears. Theseus rolls himself into a sitting position, though it makes his guts clench.  
  
Oh, he’s going to be sore for some time. He’ll have to rub soothing oils into his ass, and feel the sting of them against his spectral flesh.  
  
Zagreus is still there, crouching by him and looking hesitant. He wordlessly offers the spear, and Theseus shakes his head.  
  
“You win,” Theseus hisses, through clenched teeth.  
  
“What?” asks Zagreus.  
  
“You. Win. Don’t make me repeat it, daemon.”


End file.
